


You’re My Favorite Place To Run

by KayCeeCruz



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Inception Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2631320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayCeeCruz/pseuds/KayCeeCruz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur glances up and Eames opens his mouth to begin a torrent of his usual innuendos but the look he receives stops him. </p><p>Arthur is smiling at him. Soft and real with just a hint of dimples. Something Eames hasn’t seen in years.</p><p>“Hello, Eames.” </p><p>Eames raises an eyebrow. </p><p>This was new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You’re My Favorite Place To Run

**Author's Note:**

> Another story for Inception Reverse Big Bang 2014. Thank you to my beta for taking the time to go over this. This was inspired by the awesome art work done by leezerlee. Link to art TBA! Hope this story does it justice.

Eames breathes deep, eyes fixed on Arthur’s face, one hand resting on Arthur’s hip. He closes his eyes when Arthur’s hand touches his face. His other hand wraps around his hard cock, thumbs his slit, as Arthur’s hand joins his. 

“Eames.” 

His voice is deep, so much deeper than Eames has ever heard it.

He can’t believe they are here.

* * *

They came together slowly.

Eames isn’t even really sure how they begin but one day he looks at Arthur and there’s that squeeze in his lungs. The same one he had from the first day he’d seen that scowl directed at him. That feeling that he’d forced himself to forget. 

After Fischer they decide, through some unspoken agreement, to stick as close to Dom as they can. If one good thing came out of that whole debacle, it was the reminder to Eames of how much Dominic means to him. Years had changed them both and Eames wants a chance to get to know his friend again. He tells himself that living within miles of Arthur has nothing to do it with his decision. 

(Ariadne and Yusuf laugh in his face when he says that.) 

So Eames buys a house in Pasadena, not too far from the condo Yusuf owns, and it is better than he thinks it would ever be to set down roots. 

Arthur disappears for a couple of weeks to do the gods only knew what. Eames pretends it doesn’t bother him every time Arthur calls Dom. He tries to ignore the way Dom half smiles at him whenever he gets off the phone. 

He learned a long time ago not to believe he understands those two. 

The warehouse they find is about fifteen miles from Dom’s house and it’s been abandoned for years. There’s a lot of work to be done and Eames decides that helping Yusuf assemble his laboratory in one of the rooms will keep his mind occupied. Ariadne and Dom start fielding jobs for when Arthur returns. He takes to opening the warehouse every day which isn’t like him but he likes knowing where he is going every morning. 

He fills his days with group meetings, helping Yusuf build his space, finding Ariadne supplies and learning to be Dom’s friend. He only thinks about Arthur a few dozen times a day. He knows Arthur is coming home 

It takes him by surprise to arrive one morning and find the warehouse already open. He enters cautiously, his SIG in his hand and stops in his tracks when he sees Arthur at the desk they’d set up for him in the small office next to Dom’s. He blinks a few times, puts away his gun, as he reaches inside his pocket, rubs his fingers over the face of his totem and feels the deep groove that tells him he isn’t dreaming. 

He clears his throat as he steps closer to Arthur’s door. “Good morning, darling. It is good to see you.” 

Arthur glances up and Eames opens his mouth to begin a torrent of his usual innuendos but the look he receives stops him. 

Arthur is smiling at him. Soft and real with just a hint of dimples. Something Eames hasn’t seen in years.

“Hello, Eames.” 

Eames raises an eyebrow. 

This was new.

* * *

Arthur mouths is hot and the first lick of his tongue on Eames cock makes him arch his back off the bed and groan loudly. He can feel Arthur smile, smug because he is a bastard, and he reaches out to grab onto his hair, running fingers through the damp silkiness. He opens his eyes and watches Arthur’s cheeks hollow as he sucks Eames in as far as he can. 

Arthur’s lack of a gag reflex is legendary. 

The sensations spread through Eames limbs first, legs and arms tingling with warmth. He swallows down a moan, fists the blankets with his free hand and exhales loudly as he feels Arthur’s breath on his balls. 

“Jesus. I – _Arthur_.” 

His voice doesn’t sound like his own, rough and desperate in a way he hasn’t felt since –

Arthur says his name and Eames opens his eyes, licks his lips as he focuses on Arthur’s swollen mouth. 

“I want to fuck you. Can I fuck you, Eames?” Rough but honest and Eames closes his eyes again before he embarrassing himself and comes right then. He clears his throat to respond.  
“Yes, fuck, yes.”

* * *

At first, Eames assumes that he is imaging the way Arthur is looking at him. He has been known to project so it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that Eames is seeing what he wishes was there. So he doesn’t think about it. 

Except that every time he looks at Arthur, Arthur is looking back at him. 

Then it turns into something else completely. 

Arthur starts _touching_ him. 

It doesn’t seem like anything the first couple of times because they are working on the blue prints for a new dream, sharing the same space as they argue on what is the best location for the second level. Arthur’s hand falls to Eames waist as he moves him out of the way to place a building in a different part of the mock dreamscape. His shoulder rubs against Eames as they stand together and tell Dom why it will be impossible to get it all done in the time frame he wants. Arthur’s breathe falls against his neck as Eames bends over the table to take a closer look at the changes Ariadne has made and Arthur leans in behind him.

Eames isn’t phased in anyway by it. He has been around Arthur long enough to be immune to the casual touches. 

Not that there’s been any touching for years but still. 

But then – 

Then, Arthur’s hand slides across his stomach as he moves around Eames and it is so familiar, the kind of touch they fumbled through when they were too young to know what it meant. Playing house and at being in love (though Eames _never_ played at it). Arthur does it time and time again that it finally drives Eames to seek help from someone else. 

He thinks at first that it’s some weird joke that Dom has cooked up and somehow talked Arthur into playing along with. Of course that makes no sense since Arthur is notorious for having no sense of humor. (Although Eames knows for a fact that’s not actually true. The asshole has an impressive streak of hilarity that he only shared with a privileged few. But those were things Eames rarely thought about anymore. It was easier that way.) He asks Yusuf if he knows anything because Yusuf knows everything. And he wouldn’t lie to Eames. (Well, not about this anyway.)

Over a couple of beers at the bar down the street from Ariadne’s apartment, he grills them about what they might know. 

Ariadne stares at him, then Yusuf, then back at Eames. “Tell me you’re kidding with us.” 

Yusuf snorts. “Sadly, he is not.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ariadne rolls her eyes so hard before glaring at Eames over the neck of her bottle, “you honestly think that – what – someone is playing a prank on you because Arthur is paying attention now?” 

Eames shrugs. “Stranger things have happened.” 

“You are dense.” 

He finds that insulting because he honestly knows he is above average intelligence and can read people better than he can do anything else. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this. They (he and Arthur) didn’t do this anymore. 

“I don’t understand why you’re angry, pet. It isn’t an illogical conclusion to end up in.” 

“Because Arthur _touched_ you?”

Eames doesn’t look at her, concentrates on peeling the label off his bottle as he says, “Because Arthur _hasn’t_ touched me in years.” He glances briefly in his friends’ direction and catches the look they exchange. He doesn’t want their pity. 

Ariadne sighs, reaches for his hand. “Oh, Eames.” 

Yusuf places one hand on Ariadne’s shoulder and shakes his head. “You want to know then you have to ask him yourself. Arthur is the only one that can answer this question.” 

“Always the logical one.” 

Yusuf grins at him and nods. “Someone has to be.” 

“That someone is not you, my friend. If you recall, you were the one that insisted we could escape by running across the roof of a burning building.” 

“Prague. That was definitely a good time.” Ariadne sounds fond and Eames frowns at her. 

“Your penchant for dangerous situations worry me, sweetheart.” 

She gives him a look, sips from her bottle then says after swallowing, “Says the man in love with Arthur.” 

Eames pauses then salutes her with his drink. “Touché.”

* * *

He lets Arthur runs his fingers over his skin for as long as he wants. Eames rests his head on his arms, pushes back with a hiss as one slick finger enters him. It hurts enough to make him tense but he forces his muscles to relax. He tries to open as Arthur pulls out and then back in with two fingers, scissoring with care as he drops kisses across Eames’ shoulders. His body remembers Arthur touch, quivers and sighs into it. 

“You’re really tight, baby.”

The endearment takes him by surprise and Eames moans, moving in rhythm to Arthur’s movements. His throat is dry enough that all he can do is rasp out a quick, “Been a while.” 

Arthur stops, his fingers deep inside of Eames, and leans in, his breath falling across Eames’ ear and cheek. “How long?” 

Eames doesn’t say anything. 

Arthur pulls his fingers out, teasing his hole with the tip of his fingernail and placing three fingers near the entrance. “Tell me how long.”

Eames says, ‘Doesn’t matter,” and his teeth dig into his lip, break open the skin just enough to bleed. 

Arthur doesn’t agree. He slowly enters, sliding in with caution and Eames shoves down because he wants to feel Arthur inside, all the way, bruising and brutal. Arthur’s free hand grips Eames hip and holds him in place. 

“How _long_ , Eames?” 

Eames curses, stutters out a noise that he isn’t sure is human, slams one hand on the mattress. “Damn it, Arthur. Just – _come on_.” 

The movement stops completely and Eames cries in frustration. 

“Tell me.” 

“You are a real bastard, darling.” 

Arthur grins against his cheek, drops one small kiss on the skin nearest to his mouth. “I am. And you love it. Now, Eames. Tell. Me.”

“Oh – _fucking prick_ —a year, okay, then? Happy now. Can you please do something, Arthur?” 

“Of course I can.” 

He moves roughly now, his breathing loud in Eames ears and he keeps talking as she shoves his fingers all the way in, finding Eames prostrate and brushing against it, nudging until Eames is keening under him. “Nobody’s touched you since the last time I did, did they? You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?”

“Don’t – flatter yourself, darling.” 

Arthur pulls his fingers out and Eames feels empty. He isn’t going to beg. Arthur wants it as much as he does. He needs to admit that too.

* * *

The confrontation with Arthur goes nothing like Eames thought it would. They tend to have epic fights. They only agree when it pertains to the safety of the team and sometimes on how Dom needs to be held back. Everything else is always a battle between them. Eames won’t admit that he looks forward to fighting with Arthur more then he does anything else in his day. 

With this pattern well documented between them, Eames expects Arthur to scowl and call him ridiculous or tell him he is projecting or even laugh at him. So he decides it would be in his best interest to wait until the end of the day when they are closing up the office to ask Arthur about it. That way Eames can go home, lick whatever wounds are inflicted and then forget about it completely. 

When Dom waves good night and the door closes soundly behind him, Eames puts down the forgery he’s been working on and turns in his chair to watch Arthur through his office door. 

Eames is a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them. 

He raises from the chair and walks with determination towards Arthur. Before he reaches the door, Arthur’s head comes up and he watches him as he approaches. Eames leans against Arthur’s doorframe and says what he has been wondering for weeks. 

“Are you fucking with me, darling?” 

Arthur smiles slightly. “I’m not, Eames.” 

That – was unexpected. 

“I see.”

Arthur closes his laptop with a snap and stares at him with narrow eyes. “Do you?” 

Eames nods. “I saw – it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t be stupid, Eames. You haven’t – I’ve been giving you room, time to get used to me around you.”

Eames’ heart beats faster. “I don’t need time for that, love.” 

Arthur stands, moves gracefully across the room and ends up in front of Eames, eyes searching his face. “Do you know how much I want to touch you? It’s like – I’m back there with you. When we first meet and couldn’t get enough.” 

Eames smiles sadly. “You did though. You left.” 

Arthur shakes his head, reaches out but pulls back at the last minute. “I never – Eames, it was a mistake. Leaving you behind. I know that. Don’t ever think it was easy.” 

He doesn’t know what happens but one of his hands reaches out and pulls Arthur into him. Warm lips clashing, mouth wet, tongues stroking with intent, hands on Arthur’s back then his hair, clutching just in case he changes his mind. 

He hears Arthur’s “Fucking _finally_ ,” against his neck and he feels a giddiness envelope him. This was happening. 

He must say that out loud because Arthur responds, “Yes, it fucking is but Eames.” Arthur pulls back, strokes his fingers against Eames’ cheek gently. “Not here. I’ve been waiting too long for it to be here. Come home with me.”

* * *

He whines when Arthur pulls away but quickly quiets down when he hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper and the quiet sound of the lube opening. Sounds that usually mean Eames is about to get fucked. He shifts on his knees, concentrates on relaxing and shivers when Arthur warmth radiates on his back. 

Two fingers probe him for a moment and he almost protests but then they’re gone. He feels the pressure of Arthur against the entrance of his hole. It’s hotter than before, stretching him with heat and Eames bites down hard, lets out a long whine from the back of his throat. Arthur stretches him open, inch by inch until Arthur is balls deep inside him. He feels completely full, something that Eames hasn’t felt in a long time (since the last time with Arthur, he can admit that) and he breathes out Arthur’s name, a litany, a prayer. 

Arthur’s hands find purchase on Eames shoulders, fingers digging in, sparks of pleasure bursting in Eames chest and stomach. The sparks burst into white hot heat as Arthur starts to move, lets his cock brush against Eames prostrate, back and back until he is almost completely out. 

Eames shakes his head at the emptiness and then in the next second Arthur snaps his hips and goes back in all the way. 

Eames lets out a cry at that, shoves back against Arthur and laughs out a moan when Arthur grabs his hair, pulls back his head. He’s pounding into Eames, rhythm fast and steady. He forces Eames to turn his head, kisses him wetly, as he pushes deeper and deeper. Eames spreads his legs further, changes the angle so Arthur hits his prostrate with each thrust in. 

Behind his eyelids Eames sees blankness, stars that burst with each thrust. He feels the pulsing of his blood, the beating of Arthur’s heart against his skin. He reaches for his leaking cock, wanting to stroke until the pleasure becomes too much to bear but Arthur stops his hand, shakes his head, releasing Eames mouth. His back curves as he pushes in, still holds Eames back from touching himself. 

“Arthur… _please_ …” 

He begs. He wants so much from Arthur. Everything. To try again. Even if it goes wrong. He wants so much to have this. For as long as he can. 

Arthur’s mouth brushes against Eames ears, his breathing ragged as he moves furiously inside Eames. “Don’t touch yourself. I want you to come from just me inside you, sweetheart.” The words go directly to Eames cock and he moans, hands and knees shaking. He loses his grip, face falling into the pillow below. 

With Arthur voice still in his ear, Eames feels it building inside him and he breaths harshly, tries to say something, anything to make Arthur go faster, touch him, make him come. He needs the release but he needs to feel Arthur come inside him more. He grabs onto Arthurs wrist, pulls until Arthur’s chest is covering Eames back. He turns his head, opens his eyes and sees Arthur’s face on his shoulder, eyes closing in pleasure. 

“Fuck me. Please, Arthur. _Fuck me_.” 

Arthur groans, stutters into him and then all Eames feels is hot inside, wishes there was no barrier between them. He wants to laugh but he is painfully hard. And Arthur still won’t touch him. “Arthur.”

Arthur kisses his temple as the last of his orgasm passes and then he speaks softly into Eames ear. “I love you. Do you know that? I love you so much.” 

Eames is blindsided by it and the words are all he needs, coming all over the sheets, ribbons of white and Arthur grins, exhausted and falls besides Eames, limp and boneless. Eames waits until his heart rate slows down and Arthur’s breaths are even before he opens his eyes. Arthur is looking at him, his lips breaking into a smile as he meets Eames’ eyes. 

“Don’t be a smug bastard, love.” 

Arthur’s smile turns into a grin. “I didn’t even have to touch you.” 

Eames feels too tired to roll his eyes. “That isn’t a new trick, Arthur. You have done it before and you bloody well knew what the results would be.” 

Arthur shrugs, one hand reaches out to skim over Eames back. “I wasn’t sure it would still have the same effect.” 

“Well then, you are a moron, darling.” Eames closes his eyes to say, “It’s never not going to work, Arthur.”

“What are you saying, Mr. Eames?”

Eames snorts. “You already know I love you back. That’s not going to change.” 

Arthur grins once again, shuffles closer to Eames. “I know. And you have to know that it – I never stopped either, sweetheart.” He reaches out to touch Eames mouth, thumbs his lips and bites down on his grin when Eames shivers at the endearment. “You are always where I wanted to be. No matter how far I had to run.”

Eames turns into Arthur, throws one arm across his waist, rubbing his face softly against Arthur’s skin. 

“No more running then?

Arthur kisses the top of his head. “Only together.”

Eames closes his eyes again, smiles at how absolutely ridiculous they both are and drifts off. 

This time they would be enough for each other. No question about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Boys are stupid and in love. <3 Enjoy! Feedback loved and appreciated.


End file.
